


Government Hooker

by WennyT



Series: Writing Challenges for Yunho x Changmin [3]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: ??? sort of kind of, Abuse of Gaga's songs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Author is Not Sorry, Blow Jobs, Gen, Government Conspiracy, M/M, Other, Prostitution, Sorry Not Sorry, Squicky sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:32:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WennyT/pseuds/WennyT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I could be Girl, unless you want to be Man / I could be sex, unless you want to hold hands / I could be anything, I could be everything / I could be Mom, unless you want to be Dad. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Government Hooker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatkindoftea (haeli)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haeli/gifts), [Mouldsee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouldsee/gifts).



> Today was a bad day. Two people got me through it with most of my sanity intact and without the embarrassment of a breakdown in public, so this is for Haley, for her love of prostitute!Shim, and Eonnie, who loves powerplay in a fic. Inspired by Lady Gaga's _Government Hooker_.

 

“I want his heart on a sliver platter,” the man rants, jowls practically quivering with rage. He is pacing back and forth, shiny loafer shoes making a track in the plush carpet of the hotel room. “I want his head in a sack. I want his reputation in tatters, so help me God—”

 

“Yes, yes,” a purr interrupts, and a palm strokes up the irate man’s arm, slow enough to tease and tantalize. “But darling sir, you need to tell me what the problem is, in order for me to help you, no?”

 

The man attempts to calm himself visibly, but his breath comes fast still, albeit for a different reason. His eyes are on the fingers dragging themselves up his skin, and they narrow into beady little slits, shining with greed. “You always know how to head my temper off, my sweet Max.”

 

“Of course,” the boy calls Max allows, slipping a hand to curl behind the older man’s collar. The flesh is pudgy with the consistency of raw dough, but he kneads at it and does not let his practiced smile slip nor his disgust show. “How can I be your favourite whore otherwise?”

 

An aroused moan slips from the other, and he allows himself to be pulled down on the hotel bed, staring heatedly at the beautiful youth currently draped about him, unabashedly naked. “Say that again, my sweet boy.”

 

“I’m your favourite cockslut, sir,” comes the sultry response, and the man gasps, hands fumbling at the belt clinching his trousers tight to his overblown belly. “That you are. On your knees!”

 

“Yes, sir,” Max whispers, slipping down from the bed to kneel before the other, hands undoing buttons with the ease of one who has performed the service many, many times over. The hotel room carpet is comfortable beneath his knees, at least, and he thanks the universe for small favours.

 

“Get my cock out and suck on it, whore,” is the command issued above him, and Max dips his head and whispers a “yes, sir”, letting obedience leak through his voice and his stance, all bent knees and bowed head.

 

He leans forward to take the repulsive thing in his lips, as a meaty hand curves about his head, a ragged moan drifting towards his ears. “God, Max, your mouth is a work of art.”

 

 _No,_ Max thinks, swallowing and inching his head forward, lips tight and throat loose, _sucking cock and feigning eagerness, now those are lessons of art. And a good pretence, when well done, now that is a work of art._

 

“You’re making me feel so much better, already, little slut,” the man gasps out above him, all but shoving himself into Max, and Max hides a roll of his eyes even as he flicks a tongue along the underside of the quivering dick in his mouth, tracing the leaping vein that pulsates like a pus-filled sore. It brings him a grunt of pleasure, and the man speaks again, stuttering like an idiot with a too big tongue. “I just—just want to b-bring him down, that h-hypocritcal bastard. Thinks he’s s-so noble, and above us, rejecting t-the tax cutbacks I p-proposed when- ah, Max, your _mouth_ —”

 

The boor is starting to talk, and Max offers a little whine that he knows will drive the other crazy. He rams himself harder, down, on that vile appendage. His throat is starting to feel sore, but the information will be worth it.

 

He swallows, once, twice, and it is enough to start his prey babbling again, filthy hands knotting tight in Max’s hair. “Ah, you are just s-so eager for my c-cock, aren’t you? Ssssss _slut_. Where was I? Oh, y-yes. Need you to seduce that naïve fucker and let him be caught w-with his p-pants down, my sweet boy. There is a l-little get-together on – suck harder, y-yes, _your mouth is made for me_ — Friday, you know, sort of a get together after Parliament s-session. Bring h-him somewhere o-obvious, and I’ll tip off the Chosun D-Daily and other n-newspapers, yes—”

 

Max’s mind races, calculating possibilities and formulating plans, even as he allows tears to gather in his eyes, a film of moisture that he knows turns his eyes into that of a dewy innocent’s. He looks up, widening them, and the combination of that, and his swollen, abused lips are enough to reduce the older man into giving away all of his secrets, muttering them out to the beat of jamming himself down Max’s throat.

 

“Your eyes—so beautiful, eager little whore, you love taking my cock, ah, yes, more, suck, I’m going to destroy him, Prime Minister or not, I’ll take him down, see if I don’t, first a prostitute scandal – cry for my come now, slut– and those shipments of specialized cargo at the harbor, they’ll be under his name too, but he won’t have a name then, because of you, Max, beautiful Max with his perfect mouth—”

 

Max has enough rope to hang his prey with, and it is now time to finish up this job. He scrapes his teeth just lightly, beneath the shrunken head, and tightens his lips and swallows, all at once. And the man above him pants and shouts and loses control, loses coherence even as Max plots for him to lose his life, as well.

 

“Take it, take it all, you fuck whore, swallow it all—”

 

 _All in a day’s work,_ Max tells himself, and swallows.

  

* * *

 

 

He lets himself to sprawl on the floor, presenting a pretty picture of being used and wrecked, and lies there for half an hour more, after his prey tidies himself and tosses a stack of crisp bills onto the floor next to his come-streaked mouth, and leaves, a jaunty spring in his step.

 

He does not know he is a dead man walking.

 

Max hauls himself upright, after the first half an hour has passed, and cleans himself as best as he can, gargling his mouth more than a few times with the mouthwash he always brings with him on such jobs.

 

Checking his reflection in the mirror, Max uses tap water to splash the sweat from his face, and to slick his hair back. It is useful when the men he has to seduce grab onto it, because it presents an illusion of control for them, but Max finds it irritating otherwise, the way it always ends up all over his face.

 

Time to scrub his hands, and everywhere else the fool touched, with disinfectant. After; he changes, quickly and effectively, into a nondescript white shirt and dark trousers. Dressed like this, and with a change in posture, he attracts minimal attention, something that forever amuses him to no end.

 

Max leaves the room, his job done, and makes his way to the back of the hotel via the employee entrance, making sure no one sees him. A bus, two train-hops, a short walk and a cab ride later—he is home.

 

He slips into the flat, noting the other pair of shoes that are tossed haphazardly on the side of the house mat, a frown working itself across his face. He toes them straight, feeling better at the sight of their shoes lined up, side by side, soldiers in a battle line, and walks deeper into their home.

 

A voice greets him as he nears the study. “I told you to stop helping me.”

 

Max can feel his own hackles rising, even as he fights to keep his voice steady. “And _I_ told you that I will repay my debt to you.”

 

The Prime Minster of South Korea, Jung Yunho, steps out from the study, eyes hard and feet nearly toe-to-toe to Max’s. “I don’t need you to do such debasing things for me, Changmin—”

 

“Max,” Max cuts across the rest of Yunho’s sentence, teeth bared. “ _My name is Max_.”

 

Yunho throws his hands in the air, but he inclines his head in acquiescence. “Max, then. It’s been five years, and I don’t need you to do all these, I didn’t save you to—”

 

“You know the LSD your police found, last week?” Max interrupts. “The Minister of Health and Welfare is involved in it being here. Just for your information.”

 

He stares at the wall to the left of Yunho’s ear, taking care not to meet the other’s gaze. It is a while before the other speaks. “How do you know this?”

 

“He told me.” Max says, lifting his chin in an act of—something, he does not know. There is a ball of ice in his stomach and bile at the back of his mouth, and they do not let up in the resigned frustration in Yunho’s gaze. “While we were doing things that you don’t need me to do.”

 

“You… I just—“ Yunho sighs, and Max does not let him say anything else. He lifts his chin higher, and straightens until he is at his full height, an inch taller than the Prime Minister. “I’m tired. I’ll head to my room now. You have a call to make, to the Ministry of Justice.”

 

Max turns on his heel and walks as fast as he can, down the hallway. He does not look back, and he does not stop until he is in his room in Yunho’s flat and sitting on the bed whose sheets Yunho bought, the lock in his room that Yunho paid for pressed firmly in place.

 

 _Government hooker,_ he considers, as he lies curled up on his side. _I am a government hooker. Does that mean I am a whore, but I am good?_

 

He gets no answer to his silent question.


End file.
